The Unexpected Father
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Parent!Lock. Sherlock and John have to take care of a temporarily parentless baby. John seems to be handing it well but Sherlock, rather than the child, is the one that has to do the growing up. Plenty of fluff, a little angst, a lot of love, and a touch of heartbreak. One-Shot.


**Parent!Lock for my friend Eli who made my poster for my Sherlock/OC series, Blind Endeavours.**

**This is my first attempt at a Parentlock**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"Christ, will you_ shut_ that baby _UP_!" Sherlock's voice resonated throughout 221B, barely masked by the loud howls of the child John was rocking back and forth in his arms.

It all started with a kidnapping note. A woman had been taken from her home, her baby left alone in its crib. Due to Sherlock's insatiable insults towards the woman's estranged sister who had no interest in taking care of the child- the task fell onto the boys of Baker Street to adopt it until its mother was found. Weirdly enough- they didn't even know its name.

John had taken to calling her '_Leila_,' Sherlock had taken to calling her '_annoying_.'

"Well, maybe if you tried to help a bit!" John exclaimed, patting her back as she coughed against his neck in mid cry.

"I'm _trying _to email Lestrade information on the clues he just sent me so we can find its mother get rid of this nuisance!" Sherlock argued, pointing to his computer in front of him.

"Hush now Leila…" John cooed softly bouncing her on his hip, "grumpy Sherlock finds everyone a nuisance… you're not one though…" Her sniffles slowly died down, making John smile as he placed his forehead against hers, her chubby hands rising to grab his cheeks as she looked at him with wide glossy eyes, "you're quite lovely, you know."

Sherlock groaned and sighed as the flat went silent, "Finally."

But John wasn't paying him any attention. Rubbing his nose against Leila's, she sniffled and giggled at his tickling stubble. Smelling the little hairs on her head as he placed a kiss to it- John could feel his heart squeeze at feeling her small fingers play fondly with his ear, her toes curling against his chest.

_Christ, I think I love you already._

"You're hungry, aren't you?" John asked her with a smile. She of course didn't answer, only continued to stare at him, gnawing on her own fingers. He rocked her to the kitchen making her giggle as he went to the fridge- only to close it a moment later, as it was occupied with an arm. "…Sherlock?" John said. "There's an arm in the fridge."

"Of course there is…" He mumbled continuing to type, "what did you expect?"

"I said go out and get formula. You picked up an _arm _instead?"

"There should be some juice in there…" Sherlock clearly wasn't paying attention.

That was it for John. Putting Leila down in the cot of pillows and blankets he built for her just hours prior. He stalked over to Sherlock and slammed his laptop shut.

"Hey!" Sherlock exclaimed angrily, standing up and facing the shorter man utterly appalled. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I think I'd like _some _of your cooperation!" John shouted. "You know- who knows how long we have to take care of her and I'm doing this on my own!"

"Well it won't be a long time so long as you let me get back to my work in order to find the _things _mother!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Then we can go back to our regular routines in which you're not drenched with fatherly sentiment and I'm not constantly annoyed by it!"

John paused and swallowed Sherlock's hurtful words; clearing his throat he spoke softly, "You know, I want to be a father one day. …I want one of these babies-" John pointed to Leila who was sitting in the middle of her fort, eyes wide as she looked between both men, "I need to know that I can be a good dad."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed exasperated, "John-"

"No, Sherlock. Shut up." John demanded, bringing a look of surprise on the consulting detective's face, "How can I have a kid one day and not have you participate in that… my best friend, a stranger to my own children?"

"John…" Sherlock said definitively, "You don't _have_ any children. Not yet, thank god-"

"No, not now, but one day soon I hope." John nodded, "And when that day comes I hope I don't want to have to rid myself of you because you're always trying to rid yourself of them." John grabbed his jacket a slipped it on with roughness, "I'm off to get some formula." His last words before the front door of 221B slammed was, "And her name isn't '_that thing_' to me, it's _**Leila**__._"

* * *

Sherlock sat in his chair his hands together under his chin in thought; Leila sat in John's chair staring back at him as she cooed under her breath singing to him nonsense.

"To be quite frank I don't think I like you." Sherlock spoke plainly, "John's done nothing but accommodate to you since you've arrived… and I'm afraid I slightly despise it."

This time, Leila eyes changed to sadness. The dark tone of his voice, the strictness of his face… she knew something was wrong.

…This man didn't want her.

Slowly but surely her chin began to quiver. Sherlock's eyes widened in worry, "oh no…" he breathed. It was the last thing he said before Leila wailed. Tears poured down her reddening face as she continued to look at the now upset man.

"Oh no _please_ stop!" Sherlock groaned into the palms of his hands, in one of his rare moments of desperation, he actually pleaded. Not that it mattered- as it seemed Leila had no plans of stopping. "Please, you stupid baby- stop crying!"

His loud words and upset tone only made her cry harder.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted standing up, momentarily forgetting she was out of the weekend with her married love-affair. "Dammit!"

Looking down at Leila, Sherlock put his hands on his waist and sighed. He'd have to get physical.

Reaching down, placing his hands beneath her arms Sherlock pulled her up placing her against his chest. Holding her properly with one arm he began to rub circles on her back as he bounced on one leg, rolling his eyes as he said softly, "There, there, there…"

But Leila wasn't fooled. It seemed baby's were smarter than Sherlock Holmes first assumed. She continued to cry.

"Damnit!" He hissed, to which then Leila buried her face in his neck, her tears streaming down and soaking his best Valentino shirt that her little fingers were clutching the collar of. This time it was Sherlock who was actually daft- he had no idea that there was only one thing she really wanted from him, and that was him to want her.

_What do babies do… _Sherlock thought, there was nothing stored in his mind palace for such an occasion. _No, what did John do? _His mind reeled back to the memories of what John had done since they'd had Leila thrust upon them since the afternoon-

_Reading! _

Sherlock attempted to pry her fingers away from him as he sat back down in his chair grabbing the book next to him, but Leila relented.

"Look! A book!" He exclaimed feeling silly at his faux excitement. Showing her the cover, this allowed him to finally pull her away till she sat on his knees looking at him as her sobs went quieter to hear his voice.

"Alright, here we go-" Sherlock turned to his bookmark, and began to read attempting to not sound exasperated, "_the best way to go about amputation of particular extremities possessing phalanges, such as feet's and toes, is with a downward motion and blunt blade so as to not disturb the delicate contortion of the unique bends each body part suggests, and will help reduce the amount of blood. Allowing the blood to come out in a pouring motion rather than a squirting one…" _

Sherlock's eyes landed on Leila as he paused mid-sentence, after hearing her crying stop. But what he found on the 1 year old was her looking back at him, eyebrows together and eyes shiny and wide- her face offended at his choice of book as if she could understand him.

Once more, her lip began to quiver. This apparently wasn't what she wanted.

"No, no, no, NO!" Sherlock shouted slamming the book shut as she began crying loudly once more. "Please stop… Oh god, what do you want from me?" Sherlock placed his hands over his face, mumbling into his palms. He could feel a headache come on, "Please stop… Oh Christ, where's John?"

_That's it! I can't take it anymore! _Sherlock exclaimed mentally.

Picking her up off of his lap he placed her on John's chair. With fury he stood, needing to hear something other than her tears, needing to clear his mind of every little noise she made as well as his most recent fight with John- Sherlock stood up and picked up his violin and bow.

In one fell swoop of his arm he began to play Beethoven's Concerto for Violin and Orchestra D Major, op. 61. Partway through the second stanza, Sherlock closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Yes, this was helping. This was perfect. He didn't know why he just didn't leave the child on its own for him to play his violin- for all he could hear was the music. His entire body relaxed and the air around him was smooth and clear as if his own clouds had been lifted.

As he reached the sixth stanza he opened his eyes, his eyebrows sudden with worry. He'd had his back turned to her for a long while… What if she fell off the chair and was screaming? What if she'd hurt herself?

_Not my problem… _

But his thoughts and actions were separate as he found himself subconsciously removing his violin from his shoulder as he turned around and faced her.

He was wrong. It wasn't that he was lost in the moment therefore only hearing the music, it's that the music was the only sound in 221B. Leila looked at him, tears dried, with kind and curious eyes and utterly enthralled by the sounds she heard this man making.

Raising a curious eyebrow, Sherlock bounced momentarily on one foot, proud at her look of praise and interest. Her toes began wiggling in anticipation for more.

_I'm beginning to like this child… _

"Do you like Beethoven?" He asked, knowing she wouldn't answer. The soft tone in his voice seemed to make her back relax against John's chair, which reminded him-

_Oh no no no, this won't do… _

No, Leila needed _proper _seating to see the performance. Picking up her small chubby body once more her legs kicked in mid air as he transported her from John's chair to the couch. Facing her, he placed the bow over his chest and bowed, making her smile.

"You might enjoy this piece more." He said to her clearing his throat, positioning himself properly in front of her.

Sherlock began to play _Row row row your boat _in different grand variations. Leila clapped her hands and bounced her knees against the couch at the familiar song, her toothless smile gleaming up at the man. Sherlock was pleased, a smile on his face as he played.

For the next 20 or so minutes, Sherlock put on his best-received performances yet. Playing songs ranging from Mozart to old children's medleys, bowing after each one to Leila who only seemed too pleased to _oohh _and _aahhh _at him.

By the time he'd finished Mozart's Piano Concerto no.17, (a rather playful piece as he took the piano solo and renditioned it as his own on his violin), instead of receiving the astounding coos and claps from the brown-eyed baby, he lifted from his final bow to receive a yawn from her. Her eyes looking glossy and heavy.

Placing his instrument down he walked over to the couch and sat next to the child, she paused and looked up at him expectantly waiting for him to do what he was _supposed_ to do.

"…What am I supposed to do?" Sherlock asked her, feeling silly that he even tried. Surprisingly, she answered for him.

Getting on all fours she crawled onto his lap and sat on his knees, facing him she held up her arms indicating she wanted to be picked up and held.

Sherlock picked her up against his chest, an eyebrow lifted impressively. This baby caught on quicker than most adults did.

"Well that's because they're all idiots," Sherlock said, perching her up on her bum, "but you're not an idiot it seems…"

Leila leaned her back against his forearm, they started at each other their faces merely inches away. After a moment of her eyes observing his face she leaned forward, and much to his surprise, her small hands grabbed at his cheeks, squeezing his cheekbones.

"Careful." He told her irritated, he didn't know why. It's not like they actually would cut her. The feeling of another's hands on his face was almost foreign to him.

She smiled, her left hand resting against his chin as the other grabbed his nose and began to squeeze it mumbling '_boobooooboooo_' under her breath. Normally, Sherlock Holmes would have been furious and annoyed at such antics but it seemed, much to his surprise, he wasn't.

Leila placed her hand into his hair and smacked the other one onto his lips, his eyebrows coming together upset as her fingers forced their way into his mouth, she giggled as she knocked her tiny fingernails against his teeth. Reaching up he took her by the wrist and forced her fingers out of his mouth.

"God only knows where that hands been…" Sherlock mumbled. Leila yawned once more, her stomach filling with air against his chest as she fell forward onto his shoulder, nuzzling her face against his neck, her hand raising up to fold his ear in half over and over.

'_da-da-da-da-da'_ She repeated tiredly, Sherlock thinking nothing of it- until he did.

"Wait- what?" Sherlock said worriedly. Turning his head and looking down at her, he saw her staring up at him with half lidded eyes as she continued to coo the same words. "No. No. Not… 'dada.' _No_."

But Leila didn't listen. Her hand merely fell from his ear to clutch onto his shirt as her eyes drooped shut and her mouth fell into silence, her mouth open in a little 'o' shape as she slept soundly.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt himself uncomfortable. She was far too warm and comforting on his shoulder and after he realized what she'd called him…

_Not good. _

He thought. He could… feel. He was not a father- nor would he ever be one. _Right? Of course. _

He'd always been _so certain_ of this. Sherlock's thoughts unfortunately drifted to think about his own father who he'd buried under piles of locked doors in his mind palace- the eldest Mister Holmes, a man who'd never given his son his approval, nor shown him affection.

Sherlock winced. He quickly closed the doors again.

_I've got to get her off. _

But as he tried to pry her hands away from his collar- he found he couldn't. She was clutched on far too tight.

_It's a baby for Christsake! Shove her off! _He thought worriedly, but it seemed at every attempt that her hands went free, they went straight back to clutching his shirt after a little whine would leave her lips- threatening her wake and most certainly- another bout of cries. This was something Sherlock wasn't willing to risk. Not again.

_Well… if she's already here and she's not going to move… _Sherlock conceded.

His concession, he'd _never _admit, was done quite willingly… and quite contently.

* * *

John Watson walked up the stairs of 221B, a bag from Tescos filled with baby formula in his hands. He'd been worried the moment he left the flat, realizing that he should have taken Leila with him as he'd left her with a man who certainly had no interest in children.

Sherlock's words had hurt John greatly, though he realized he couldn't blame the man. John knew he could never change Sherlock, and he shouldn't have expected anything less. The only hope that the doctor had now was that hopefully, both the consulting detective and the baby would still be alive.

Walking through the living room door, John Watson was met with a sight that provided much more.

Leila and Sherlock both laid on the couch, sound asleep. Her body lay atop his chest with her cheek against his collarbone, his arms lazily around her ensuring she wouldn't fall.

221B- in short, was a disaster zone. Clearly Sherlock had had some sort of tantrum attempting to calm the baby and please her so she'd stop crying.

_Serves him right. Maybe now he knows what it's like to live with himself. _John thought, a smile forming on his face as he watched them.

The breathing of Sherlock's chest lifting the baby up and down. He'd never seen such a sight.

Putting on the kettle and taking a seat in his own chair, John Watson decided he'd sleep there for the night; he didn't want to miss a moment of the single most beautiful moment he'd possibly ever witnessed.

And deep in John Watson's heart, he hoped that one day he could see it again.

* * *

The next day, the baby's mother was found. And while at Scotland Yard Sherlock had verbally indicated he was '_glad to get rid of it_' as they handed "_Leila_" off to her mother, John had noticed that Sherlock's '_polite offers_' to hold her in the taxi on the way there had nothing to do with politeness in the least bit.

And after her mother had thanked them both with tears in her eyes, as she walked away, Leila peaked out from over her shoulder lifted a hand and squished her fingers in a wave. John saw the direction it was in, and it wasn't in his.

Sherlock had bit his lip and nodded at the baby, giving a quick wave up with his hand that John almost missed with the blink of an eye, before stuffing his fingers back into his pocket, turning his head away.

"Are you okay?" John had asked.

"Don't be foolish, John." Sherlock spat harshly, and rather quickly.

"Well done boys," Lestrade smiled at them, "Kept her in one piece and she seemed rather happy."

"What was her real name?" John inquired.

"Like it matters what her name was." Sherlock mumbled, his foot tapping impatiently, clearly ready to leave New Scotland Yard. He looked around the floor with great interest.

Lestrade smiled, Sherlock's eyebrows came together as the detective inspector's eyes landed on him with a humorously ironic glint.

As John and Sherlock walked out of the building, they got in the taxi silent the whole way with Lestrade's words still being mulled over by both of them- but most of all Sherlock. Who seemed contented to stare out the window, his eyebrows creased together, his lips downturned, his eyes unusually soft, his mind deep in thought and lost to everything that surrounded him.

The baby girl's real name… was _Shirley_.

It took 3 days for Sherlock to pick up his violin again.

**Fin. **

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed my first attempt at parent!lock!**

**Comments are always appreciated and adored :)**


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